Jeff Foster - Life Without a Center
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Originally posted it in an existing thread.. but Thusness thinks it's so good that I should post in a separate thread for everyone. It is very clear on the experience and insight of Anatta, No-Self.
http://www.lifewithoutacentre.com/
Welcome to Life Without A Centre.
Here, we speak of another possibility: that there is only ever the present appearance of life, with no individual at its core who could ever escape even if they wanted to...
The message of nonduality is utterly simple, utterly obvious, utterly ordinary. As simple as the sound of the rain splish-splashing on the roof, as ordinary as going to the toilet...
Life Without A Centre is not about taking on any new beliefs, nor getting rid of old ones. This is not about "giving up the search" or "transcending thought" or "dropping the ego". No, this message is simpler than any of that: it's about life as it already is. It's about the possibility that this (what is happening presently) is all there is, and that the person who seeks, who suffers, who longs to be free, has no more reality than a presently arising thought. That is, "you" are just a belief, arising now.
What we are talking about is nothing less than the death of the individual self. But this is not something that an individual could ever bring about, not a goal that "you" could ever reach. And of course you don't need to: already, the "I" is just a fiction, already there is absolute freedom: freedom from the burden of self, freedom from the burden of having to choose, freedom from the burden of being a "person in the world", with a heavy past and an uncertain future.
And so the clarity and liberation sought for a lifetime reveals itself. And it is clearly seen, by no-one, that the extraordinary was always right here, present in and as the utterly ordinary.
There has only ever been this obvious present appearance of life. There has only ever been aliveness, Oneness, Being, playing at being a "world", playing at forgetting it was only ever playing.
And the spiritual search only ever brought us here: to hear that none of it ever happened in the first place.
This message is about liberation, right here, right now, in the midst of this very life. A life lived by nobody. A life without a centre.
- Jeff Foster, UK, August 2007 -
http://www.lifewithoutacentre.com/10.html
What is Nonduality? - Reflections on the utterly obvious....
by Jeff Foster
This is the end of all hope, because it is the end of a future, and what is the future but a hope?
And with the end of hope comes the death of the one who hopes. But this death is not something a person could ever bring about, for what is the attempt to bring this about but the Hope of all Hopes?
And so, the end of all hope is death, death of the individual, death of the one who hopes. And death looks like this:
Breathing, the heart beating, sounds in the room, sensations in the body.....
In fact, death looks a lot like life, except now there is nobody there living that life, just life itself playing out spontaneously, of its own accord, in its own time. This is a life lived by nobody, and yet there are still faces, places, feelings, ups and downs. Although now the ups are equal to the downs, pain is equal to pleasure, the most excruciating suffering is equal to the greatest joy. Because with the death of the person comes the death of all opposites, all opposition, all duality, which is to say that everything now exists in perfect balance (as it always has done). And yet, there is nobody to know that balance, nobody who could name it, nobody who could even speak of it even if they wanted to.
And of course, what is being written here cannot capture it at all. How to use dualistic concepts to describe that which is beyond duality? And anyway, isn’t “beyond duality” just another concept, perhaps the biggest concept of them all?
Perhaps. But no matter. What is being said here has nothing to do with words. Once we get lost in words and concepts and meanings we’ve missed the point entirely. Because this message is about what is presently happening – present sights, sounds and smells. It’s about the utterly obvious present appearance of life, an appearance which appears to nobody, an appearance which dances and swirls and pretends to be solid but actually has no solidity at all, an appearance which cannot be grasped in any way (and the attempt to grasp it would only lead to suffering…)
ItÂ’s an appearance which cannot be escaped, cannot be denied, cannot be transcended, because the person who would try and do any of these things in the first place does not even exist. He is an apparition, a ghost, a mirage, a thought. And what power does thought have?
And so this is the end of choice, the end of control.
This is the absolute freedom which cannot be reached through any sort of effort or non-effort.
This is the end of duality because it is the wide open space, the vastness in which duality appears to arise in the first place.
This is totally extraordinary, and yet it is nothing special.
This is the miracle of all miracles, and yet it is as simple as breathing.
This is death, and yet it is also the source of all life.
This is not something a mind could ever hope to grasp. This is not a concept to be understood, not a new belief to be believed.
This is breathing, this is the heart beating, this is an entire world arising out of nothing and falling back into nothing, ceaselessly, playfully, like waves in the ocean, like icy breath on a winterÂ’s day, like the memory of a loved one, long since departed.
This is not a state to be reached; it is not something that some people have and others donÂ’t.
This is just a description of the utterly obvious.
ItÂ’s so simple a newborn baby could see it: life already has no centre. -
http://www.lifewithoutacentre.com/4.html
....But this is already getting way too heady, too intellectual. The reality is simple, obvious, present. Thoughts appear now: they are not "my" thoughts, they are just thoughts. They are not "my" problems, they are just problems. This is not "my" life, this is just life.
Life plays out, and I am both utterly immersed in it, and utterly absent. And these are not polar opposites: to be immersed fully, is to be fully absent.
Fully immersed, fully absent. And yet there is still the noise of traffic outside, still the click-click of the boiler switching on and off, still the sound of breathing, still the tap-tap of the rain at the windows, still the tiredness in the body, still the sensations, moment by precious momentÂ…
And so, even though I am fully absent, life carries on.
Even though I am nowhere to be found, life cannot, will not cease, not now, not ever.
LIBERATION IS ... PAYING THE GAS BILL
Only this.
Only ever this.
Arising spontaneously.
Leaving no trace.
How could it be otherwise?
Emptiness and fullness, being and non-being.
All is here. All is Now.
But those are just words.
No words necessary.
Just this.
*
Cat miaowing. Kettle on the boil. Heart beating. Eating cornflakes (milk's a bit sour). Bills plopping through the letterbox.
Breathing.
Breathing.
Liberation.
Eating.
Liberation.
Drinking.
Liberation.
Going to the toilet.
Liberation.
Pain in the chest.
Liberation.
Craving, delusion, desire, love, hate, jealously, guilt.
Liberation, liberation, liberation!
*
No need to search anymore.
Was there ever a past?
Was there ever someone who searched? Someone who suffered and longed to be free from it all?
Someone who believed in anything?
Oh, God! What madness! To want anything other than thisÂ…
*
Just stop.
Stop, look and listen:
This is all there is.
There was never anything else.
I wonder how much British Gas have charged this month?
THE ROBIN
Nothing to hold onto anymore.
Nothing tangible.
No safety net.
No security.
No comforting beliefs.
Nothing. No-thing.
Void.
And in that Void, everything.
An empty fullness, a full emptiness.
And beyond these words, beyond these strange little squiggles that symbolise nothing beyond themselves, beyond all philosophies, beyond the intellect, beyond all attempts to understand, beyond the absolutely futile attempt to put all of this into words, beyond even these words being read right now, beyond it all, there is a little robin in the tree over there, and I have no idea what he is doing, or why he is there, or why any of this is happening at all (and there is undeniably something going on!), but I expect that the little robin has never struggled with life the way humans do, he has never for a moment tried to intellectualise it all, tried to figure it out, tried to understand it, and certainly, I expect, he has never tried to escape it.
And beyond all words, all thoughts, all beliefs, all ideologies, there is that robin over there (and I say "robin" but really I haven't got the faintest idea what it is), and that robin, chirping to himself as he hops from branch to branch, singing his little song, reminds us all that there is simply nothing to get, that the idea that there is something to get is at the root of all human misery and confusion, that this present appearance is all there is or ever was, which is not a problem until "you" arrive and want it to be other than what it is.
The robin understands. Or rather, it wouldn't ever occur to him to try to understand. He jumps about on the tree, chirping his little song of joy and heartache, and that is the world, that is his world, and there is no other.
Oh, little robin, you know this: Nothing matters.
And precisely because nothing matters, everything matters absolutely. -
COMING HOME
This is timeless, deathless, eternal.
This is without equal, this is never-to-be-repeated, this is utterly unique and totally new, in each and every moment, although there are no “moments” at all.
This is empty of all qualities, even the quality of being empty of all qualities. And yet, this is totally full, pregnant with infinite possibility, possibility that overflows again and again into a world.
This is peace, but it is a volcanic peace, a peace which does not deny noise but embraces it fully, a peace which does not rest, an ecstatic peace that throws itself out of itself now, now and now.
This is completely unknowable, and yet it is filled with the knowledge of things, filled with an apparent world "out there", in its infinite guises.
This is something that cannot be spoken of by anyone, and yet words are thrown out, day after day after day.
This is not of this world, and yet it is nothing but this world.
This is completely extraordinary, and yet it is as simple and as obvious as the sound of the rain splish-splashing on your rooftop.
Splish! Splash!
This is a wide open space, with enough room for an entire world, pulsating with a radical and unconditional love that will never be grasped by a mind locked in the search for something more.
This is simple, obvious, ordinary.
This is what everybody is seeking, but nobody can find.
And nobody can find this precisely because the one who searches for this is exactly that which apparently obscures this (although this can never be obscured, because it already includes any idea of a somebody who would want something more).
This is Jesus dying on the cross.
This is the Buddha seeing through all confusion.
This is the world falling away when two lovers embrace.
This is a mother cradling her newborn child.
This is watching an old man waddling down the pavement, and seeing only yourself.
This is your heart breaking at the sight of an old woman, her shopping bags full of groceries, struggling to cross a busy road, and finding yourself, without hesitation, rushing over to help her, because you have no choice, and you never did have any choice.
And this is realising, at long last, that choice is illusion, that you were never for one moment separate from this thing we call “life”, that we were never for one moment separate from each other; that no man is an island, that we affect each other in more profound ways than the mind could ever hope to grasp.
And yet, there are no others, and "you" cannot realise a damn thing.
http://www.lifewithoutacentre.com/6.html
*
These days, all seeking has apparently died. I have no idea how or why, but it seems to be the case.
This is not something I have achieved... not at all, not at all!
And so....
.... what is left?
Breathing.
Heart beating.
Sensations in the body.
A tuna salad.
The crunch of the lettuce leaves.
The faint fishy smell of the tuna.
The fork coming up... up... up... CRUNCH!
Owned by no-one, understood by no-one. Just this. Awash in nothingness, bathed in emptiness, and yet totally full, full as full can be. And beyond all these words, beyond any thought anyone has ever had, there is that fork coming up again, undeniably so.... here it comes!.... and the teeth chomping down..... CRUNCH!
This CRUNCH! is the end of all spirituality.
*
Before enlightenment, crunch tuna salad.
After enlightenment, crunch tuna salad.
And of course, there is no before or after at all, and certainly no enlightenment. ThatÂ’s just a good story.